


Late

by Wireslide



Series: Bossy [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Iverson calls Shiro 'Phil', Iverson is Shiro's age, Iverson's full name is Mitchell Gareth Iverson VII, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 12:05:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16832302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wireslide/pseuds/Wireslide
Summary: Shiro is late for lunch with Lance and Keith. Lance has a surprise for both of them.





	Late

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr as 'Bossy Three.'

“If you don’t stop shaking your leg, Phil, I am going to have a conversation with Holt about replacing it, too,” Iverson didn’t even look up from the PADD in his hand, swiping casually to a different page. The desk he rested his toe against stopped vibrating, and he made a notation on the report to ask for clarification.

Then the tapping started. Metal fingers on the metal desk, hollow and sharp, in no discernible pattern of ringing staccato. One lone eye rolled up; he tipped his head faintly so the eye patch covering the empty socket beside it didn’t obscure the other commander’s flushed face. “Phil. You are the only person existence that I can stand. Don’t make me kill you.”

Across the desk, the faint blush on the face of one Takashi Shirogane–whose name could not in any reasoning universe be shortened to 'Phil’–deepened to a line of almost scarlet just below the scar bisecting his face. “Sorry, Gary. It’s just–the time. I’m late for-” his eyes flicked to the clock on his monitor “-lunch?”

Iverson looked him over critically, then deliberately turned to stare at the open doorway. He heard Shiro let out a muffled sound of something-between-embarrassment-and-apology, and huffed a short laugh. “Yeah, they’ve been waiting for you to excuse yourself for half an hour now. I half expected Atrillo to pop in and boss you out, but he hasn’t worked up the courage for that yet.” He returned his gaze to his friend to the sound of indignant huffing from the hall. “Go. Paperwork will still be here when you get back. You’re just distracting me from mine, anyway.”

“You’re the best, Gary,” Shiro told him gratefully, pushing back from his desk and sending his floating prosthetic to fetch his coat.

“Just…away,” his friend insisted, waving toward the door with a pained look on his face.

Shiro understood the expression a little better once he got into the hall; Lance leaned against the wall beside the door with one hand down, palm up as Keith rocked himself into it. The blue paladin’s top was half unbuttoned and rucked to one side, skin gleaming with thin, drying trails of Keith’s saliva. As Shiro watched, entranced, Lance locked eyes with him and reached up with his free hand to grab a fistful of the thick black hair. “Enough,” the Cuban said, softly but firmly, “he’s here.”

The faint sound that slipped from the back of Keith’s throat was indescribable, and Shiro felt his blood pressure skyrocket. Lance’s eyes wouldn’t let him look away. “What color today, Shiro?” The Cuban asked softly, hand gentling in Keith’s hair when the other paladin rest his forehead on Lance’s shoulder and stilled his hips.

Shiro wet his lips, wondering if he would ever be able to say no to that calm, rich tenor. “Aqua,” the word pulled itself from his lungs on less than a whisper, and he rushed to correct the lack of volume when one of Lance’s eyebrows quirked. “Aqua. Sir.” It didn’t matter that they were in the hallway, that anyone could come along at any moment, see Lance disheveled and Keith panting against his jacket, see Shiro coming undone just from the look in those blue eyes. He would do anything for the faint smile he got for his obedience, for the faint tilt of Lance’s head and the hand that reached out to tangle their fingers together. Lance's palm was still warm from resting between Keith's legs. The heat made Shiro shudder.

“Good boy,” another shudder worked it’s way up his spine, tingling all the way to his scalp at the words, and the relief was so intense that Shiro wondered for a moment if he’d just come in his pants. The next question confirmed he was still, in fact, riding the sexual high that Lance inspired in him. “What color, Keith?”

Lance’s eyes released his, and he found them locked on the flash of violet peering out from the thick veil of Keith’s hair. Shiro wet his lips when Keith did. “Purple,” the black paladin rasped, lips twitching in an open-mouthed smile when Shiro shuddered again. He whined a little, mouth still open, when Lance scraped his nails against his scalp. “Sir.”

“Good boy,” Lance hummed again, stroking his hair. He looked between the two of them for a moment, then clicked his tongue. His interest rose when both Shiro and Keith straightened up to look at him. “Lunch,” he reminded them, “we have already pushed the reservation by an hour, we should get there in time to not have to push it again.” He held onto Shiro’s hand and took Keith’s, leading them out to the parking lot.

“Y-you don’t want to see?” Shiro asked, exchanging a quick, surprised look with Keith.

“You can show me at the restaurant,” the blue paladin informed them mildly, not bothering to look back over his shoulder.

“M–” Shiro bit his lips together against the reflexive panic.

Keith hastened to interrupt him. “In the bathroom?”

Lance stopped, barely avoiding being run into by both the other men. He turned to give Keith an incredulous look. “Of course in the bathroom, holy fuck, I–” he caught the flick of Keith’s eyes towards Shiro, and brought the older man’s hand to his lips. “I’m enjoying being bossy, I’m not out to get any of us arrested. I will never ask either of you to be that public. Now come on; Hunk’s waiting for us.”

It was Keith’s turn to dig in his heels. “H-Hunk is having lunch with us? You didn’t say–”

Lance straightened back up and lifted both eyebrows, watching the half-Galra stutter to a halt under the stern gaze. “Hunk is the reason we have this reservation. Hunk is the reason we got to push the reservation, and just so you know, Keith,” he tugged on his hand, pulling him in to kiss his ear and grinning when he whined, “purple is Hunk’s second favorite color.”


End file.
